


The Joys of Self-Pleasure

by Jéssica da Maia (spaceparanoids)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: American Indian, Assassin's Creed Kink Meme, Caught, Complete, Cute, Ejaculate, Gen, Kink Meme, Lube, Masturbation, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Native American Character, Self-Discovery, This American Life, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceparanoids/pseuds/J%C3%A9ssica%20da%20Maia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A naïve, barely 20-year-old Connor has been sheltered all his life about the joys of carnal pleasure. Not knowing much about sex beyond the basics, his knowledge expands when he stumbles upon his newfound sexuality by accident…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joys of Self-Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [armouredescort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/armouredescort/gifts).



> AssCreed Kink Meme fill based on the following prompt —
> 
> “Connor doesn’t strike me as a particularly sexual person. Well, not in the way that he’d have given himself pleasure as a teenager. My personal headcanon is that he didn’t start masturbating until he was well into his twenties. I’d adore you forever if you wrote something based around a slightly flustered and suddenly horny, but ultimately very satisfied Connor exploring how to pleasure himself. As in, he knows about sex and erections, but hasn’t experienced pleasure in this way until now.”

It started out as an accident—a simple, innocent little incident—and the assassin wasn’t sure how to feel about it. He felt a spark of euphoria ignite from his loins and course through every fibre of his being. He couldn’t believe how it all came from a mere scrape of his lower extremities against the edge of the desk. He didn’t mean to do it—oh no, not at all. What he meant to do was simply grab some ingredients from the shelves that Achilles ordered him to do. It was just a coincidence that Connor managed to graze his bulge alongside the desk edge as he reached for the spices.

He never brought it up with the old man, no matter how disconcerted he was about it. He figured that such matters were too embarrassing to discuss in the open, especially with someone who wasn’t part of his tribe. So he left the subject untouched for the rest of the day until nightfall, where he was preparing himself for slumber.

Connor laid there upon his four-poster bed, eyes wide open. There was no way he was able to rest tonight until he finally dealt with this strange issue of his. He was glad that Achilles gave him a separate bedroom to sleep in, especially one that was upstairs and far away from where the old man rested in the lower floors. Wearing nothing but a chemise, Connor pushed the bed sheets aside and freely reached for his nether regions. He put his hand just above his loins, unsure of where to begin or even how to get those gratifying sparks going again. He wished he had someone to turn to for some guidance—someone like Kanen'tó:kon, for instance. Connor was sure that his best friend was able to help him out, but alas, he was on his own this time.

Sighing, the assassin decided to just grip his cock the way he’d usually do whenever he would bathe himself. He frowned, unsure of what to do next. He kept his palm still and thought back to where he last felt those pleasurable sensations. He remembered them beginning from the tip of his—

“Ah, so that is what I should do!” Connor thought out loud. Beaming childishly, he brushed the tip of his cock with his fingers and shivered from both the pain and pleasure it gave him. His smile returned to a frown; while he loved the delightful touches, he hated the accompanying discomforts. He let out another exasperated breath and sat up. Furrowing his eyebrows, he crossed his arms and bowed his head, lost in thought.

 _Usually it would not hurt whenever I would wash myself with soap_ , he mused. _So why—_ “Oh, I think I understand now!”

Sliding off his bed, Connor sauntered over to the chair near the fireplace, where his pantaloons hung over its rails. He could just strut downstairs without any pants on, but opted to wear them just in case Achilles unexpectedly woke up and caught him bare-arsed. He put them on and then made his route towards the lower levels of the manor.

Once he arrived in the kitchen, he reached for a small jar sitting on one of the shelves labeled, ‘BEAR GREASE’, and tucked it under his arm. Exiting the area in silence, Connor stopped by Achilles’s room for a bit and peered through the cracked door: the old man was sleeping soundly on his side, his back facing the assassin. Smiling, Connor closed the door as quietly as he could and made his way back upstairs.

The minute Connor entered his bedroom, he slammed the door and got down to stripping as fast possible, not even giving a care in the world if his clothes were scattered throughout the floor. Something about this event excited him like no other, and he grinned stupidly as he hopped into bed. Opening the jar of bear grease, he dipped his fingers into it and smeared the grease all over his cock. He shuddered every time his hands would go over his knob-end—he figured he’d have to pay special attention to that spot. Relaxing a little, he closed the jar and set it aside. He reclined onto his bed, his hand stroking his hardening length at a leisurely pace.

The assassin sighed, content at the budding sensations spreading throughout his entire form. _So this must be reason why people find such intimate activities to be tremendously enjoyable,_ he reflected. Closing his eyes, he glided his hand up and down his shaft, making sure to touch his head every now and then. He released another calm breath; if he’d known that self-stimulation would feel this good then he would have done it earlier. He wondered if there were other ways to make himself feel good. Opening his eyes, he looked down at his cock and slowly slid his index finger across the underside his shaft. He could feel the flickers of carnal delight follow the direction of his finger as he moved it up his shaft, and he couldn’t help but tremble again. Suddenly, he jolted and whimpered the minute his digit touched his frenulum, eyes going wide at what just happened.

He stared at the place where his fingertip left that incredible feeling not long ago, utterly dumbfounded. Touching that sweet spot again, he yelped from the shocking sensation. A sheepish smile formed across his features; it felt so intense yet so good that he decided to focus on that spot for the rest of the session. He traced small circles around it, the pleasant feelings amplifying as he lingered there. His cheeks were reddening and burning like fire, and his breathing became erratic as he hastened his movement. A loud moan escaped his lips, causing him to stop all of a sudden and put his free hand over his mouth, eyes flaring in shock at the noise he recently made.

He sat up in one swift motion, his mind in turmoil. The moaning, the accelerated breathing, the sensation of almost reaching climax—it was all too much for him. He pouted, realising now that this must be the reason why people shrieked like animals whenever they were rutting. Prior to this, he really didn’t know much about sex other than that it was something that mother and father did to procreate. Birth, puberty and coming of age were not given importance to his culture compared to other tribes. Placing a palm to his cheek, he also felt awfully embarrassed at how warm it was and how tingly it felt.

He pursed his lips, unsure of what to do next. He felt awkward about all the unwanted physiology that accompanied his sexual pleasure; however, at the same time, there was something quite thrilling about attaining the edge of one’s carnal pursuit. He was undeniably curious about what the experience would be like beyond that, so he opted to resume his exploration. Lying back down, he breathed deeply and placed both hands on his crotch, one on his balls and the other on his shaft. He brushed his index finger across that sensitive, elastic band of tissue and moaned with abandon. He quickened his caresses, his breathing becoming erratic again as the pleasurable feelings increased. The temperature in his cheeks rose even more, and he felt that he was approaching the edge again. He pondered if there was a way to take these sensations to the next level, so he began to gently pinch and pull his frenulum between his thumb and forefinger. His hips bucked from the spikes of ecstasy that were shooting through him, instigating him to shiver and whimper. He cupped his balls nearer to his body as he continued to tease his delicate, thin fold of skin—he was close, so close to reaching the other side of bliss. He cried from how wonderful it all felt—it was too much and too little at the same time. He started rolling his frenulum between his fingers, and that was all he needed to bring himself to climax.

Bursts of pleasure hit him like an earthquake, triggering him to grunt like mad. His body shook violently, spurts of his seed shooting across his chiseled abs. He felt this need out of nowhere to expel his remaining load, so he pumped his rod as vigorously as he could. It was so sensitive yet so intense that he swore he saw stars explode behind his eyes. Groaning wildly, he continued rubbing himself until he couldn’t take it anymore, and simply allowed the aftershocks to overpower him.

A fair amount of time had passed since then, and Connor came down from his intoxicated state. The whole experience rendered him completely stunned and speechless. So many emotions were going through him right now—confusion, fear, elation, gratification.

“Tsi niionehrákwa… ”1 he murmured.

Gazing down, he saw that his stomach was coated in his juices. He frowned and grumbled at the fact that he now had to go clean himself. Exhaling an exasperated breath, he sat up in a cross-legged position and scanned his room to see if he could find any spare cloth to wipe himself with. Unfortunately, there was none, and he didn’t want to go through the hassle of bathing in the lake in the middle of the night. He let out another noise of complaint and stared at his stained abs. He shrugged and resolved to just rubbing the fluids all over his sculpted torso. Eventually, he got curious enough to know how he tasted like, so he swiped a globule onto his fingertip and licked it.  
  
Scrunching his face, he muttered, “Tyohyòtsis.”2

Disliking the flavour, he chose to not lick anymore. The fluids on his trunk were starting to get dry and sticky, and he didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling it gave him. Just then, an idea came to mind: grabbing the pot of bear grease, he opened it, scooping the grease and graciously slathering it all over his trunk.

“That should keep things smooth for a while,” he remarked.

As he placed the lid back onto the pot, he could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He set the pot on the floor and yawned. Lying back down, he pulled the sheets over his head and turned sideways. He grabbed the extra pillow on his bed and hugged it tight, his face burying into its softness. A warm smile formed upon his lips as he closed his eyes. He felt quite content about this sexual awakening of his, and he very much looked forward to discovering more tomorrow.

“Wakatshennón:niii..ii..i...”3 he mumbled, his voice diminishing as he drifted off to deep sleep.

* * *

The assassin’s slumber was disturbed by the sound of someone knocking loudly on his door.

“Connor?” the man uttered, his voice slightly muffled by the door; he banged it even harder. “Connor!? Wake up! I need to have a word with you, young man!”

Fluttering his eyes open, Connor felt a moist area on his pillow and groaned when he noticed that it was stained by his drooling. Closing his mouth, he wiped the remaining dribble off his face and rubbed his eyes.

“CONNOR!” the man roared. “If you don’t come out this instant, I’ll—”

“I will be there in a moment, Achilles,” Connor stated in an irritated way; he got up from bed and stretched himself. “I just need to get dressed first.” He could hear an audible sigh coming from the old man as he went about to dressing himself.

“Oh why were you still sleeping this late? Usually, you’d be up earlier than I would,” Achilles scolded.

Connor paused, unsure of how to answer the old man. “Uh, I could not sleep last night,” he responded. As he put his chemise on, he remembered how his torso was still covered in a mixture of his juices and bear grease. Grimacing, he grumbled something to himself about how he’d take care of washing all that off later, and proceeded to putting the rest of his clothes on. Once he was finished, he opened the door and asked, “What is it that you wish to speak about?”

“At last! I’ve been standing here for some time now, just waiting for you,” the old man complained.

“Ah, my apologies,” Connor muttered, his head bowing down.

Achilles merely waved off the assassin’s apology and continued, “Anyway, have you seen the jar of bear grease anywhere? I need it for cooking lunch and can’t seem to remember where I last placed it.”

Without warning, Connor’s cheeks turned bright red. He broke eye contact with the old man and answered sheepishly, “I…used it last night.”

“All of it?” Achilles questioned, his eyebrows rising.

“I—no! Not all of it!”

“Then where is it??”

Connor scratched the back of his head, reluctant to give the old man an answer. He couldn’t lie to him, for he’d get in trouble for sure if he did that. Sighing, he grudgingly replied, “…In my room.”

“In your room!?” Achilles blurted, his eyebrows furrowing. “What’s it doing there? Give it to me!”

“Uh…I do not think that you would want it back.”

“What do you mean, I wouldn’t want it back? Of course I would! I need it! What are you doing with it, anyway?”

The assassin stared at the floor and pursed his lips. His cheeks were getting hot, and he didn’t want Achilles to see how embarrassed he was. He scratched the back of his head again; it was getting harder and harder to answer every single one of the old man’s questions. “I—I……I-I used it on my body.”

Achilles raised his eyebrows again, flabbergasted at what he was hearing. Sighing, he muttered, “I don’t even want to know where.” He shook his head and remarked, “First week of adulthood and already it commences like this. I should have known.”

Connor didn’t say anything, for he was too ashamed right now to even respond.

Shrugging, Achilles released another stressed breath and said, “Well, boys will be boys.” He turned away from the assassin and walked over to the edge of the staircase. As he initiated going down the steps one by one, he announced, “I will need a new pot of bear grease—one that is _clean_ , mind you.”

“O-of course, sir,” Connor stammered; he still refused to look at the old man.

Stopping in his tracks, Achilles turned his head around and hollered, “What are you doing just standing there? That bear grease won’t just appear on its own, you know? Now go out there and fetch me some, boy!”

Connor shot his head up and looked at the old man, unaware until now that he had already began going down the stairs. “Y-yes, sir!” he stuttered.

Achilles merely muttered some more complaints as he made his way down below.

Once the old man was out of sight, Connor exhaled a breath of relief and hung his shoulders. He didn’t want to go through that ever again, but he was at least glad that Achilles let him keep the pot of bear grease. Retreating from the doorway, he walked towards the armchair tucked in a corner, where his hunting items were laid to rest. He retrieved them and then strode over to his messy bed. As he made his bed, he mulled over the places where he should go hunting for bears and how he still had to take care of the business of ridding his torso free of its sliminess. _I could go hunting in John’s Town—that place always has enough bears frolicking around_ ,he contemplated. _It also has a nice big place for me to go bathing in…_ Grinning foolishly, Connor straightened the remaining creases on his bed sheets and exited his room in a rush. He couldn’t wait to get some time for relaxation after hunting and go play in the lake…

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Roughly translates to ‘It is amazing’.  
> 2 Translates to ‘salt’.  
> 3 Translates to ‘I am happy’.


End file.
